


When the day's over, will you remember me?

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Dad!Tony, Hurt No Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sad Ending, Son!Peter, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: June 20, 2016 had been the day his son had been taken. Tortured. Hit over the head one to many times, and everyday now. It was June 20th. It'd always be that day to him, and Tony knew it'd always be his fault.





	When the day's over, will you remember me?

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I like this? Needing to write the saddest shit I can.

Life had always held a deep hatred for Tony Stark, whether it be the paparazzi slandering his name. The cries of the men, woman, and children dying at the hand of his creations. His son's recent Anterograde Amnesia.

He'd promised to protect him, and he'd been too late. Every day was a clean slate, but to Peter, it would always be that same day.

A day he lived out, never knowing that the date haunted his father. It was the day he was taken, hunted, tortured, broken.

The hero, if he could call himself that, remained haunted as he set back the clocks, and calendars, reminding the AI even when it was programmed into her that every day was June 20th, 2016.

The doctors had advised people with his condition shouldn't be at home, but was there anywhere safer than the compound?

No. Tony had made sure of that. Made sure to restock the half eaten bag of chips Peter enjoyed, the milk and juice, and every bottle in Peter's bathroom. Making sure it was as exactly as Peter left it.

"Morning dad," he smiled sweetly, Tony setting the coffee powder in the machine, letting it brew.

"Morning kiddo," Tony cooed, an underlying sadness in his tone that he couldn't quite hide. It was hard not to hide his shame, to not act as if nothing was wrong. Especially when Peter continued to look at him as if he hung the moon.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked, eyes wide with concern. Tony silently cursed to himself, before running a hand through his goatee. Eyes quickly welling with tears no matter how hard he tried to keep them down.

The action caused Peter to curl in on himself, slightly reaching toward his father as he sobbed into his hand. The boy backed away slowly, sensing he was the cause of his father's distress.

Peter's own wide innocent eyes slightly welled with tears, his father hadn't been this upset since he'd been brought home from Afghanistan. They'd both sobbed then, holding each other until Pepper pulled Tony away since he stunk.

The rest of the day continued on, Peter in his room and Tony hiding himself away in his lab. Guilty that he was relieved Peter wouldn't remember it in the morning.

And after Peter was asleep and he'd double checked everything was in order, he whispered an apology into his hair. He could only hope tomorrow would be better. His tux stretched as he rose, and he fixed the tilted Darth Vader figure before turning out the lights.

"Goodnight Peter."

\---

When he dreamed, he remembered. He saw blood and heard his own screams. His father's tears and anger, the doctors and monsters prodding him. His father hugging him, the swing of the bat, and the world going dark causing him to wake.

Little remained as he sat up, just the memory of his father's warm hug. It was a new day. He stretched, muscles popping and he begged to go back to sleep.

Neck cracking, a yawn forced itself through his throat. Feet cold as he flung his legs over the side of the bed, toes curling into the carpet.

Padding into the hallway, not bothering to head to the kitchen but to his father's room. He crawled in beside the sleeping man, who's eyes blearily opened to look down at his son resting his head on his chest.

His crooked fingers pushed their way through the soft strands of hair, holding him close. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Peter groaning as his father sat up.

"C'mon kiddo, let's get some breakfast," Tony nudged, a breathy laugh escaping his lips when Peter buried his face in his throat in protest.

"I know you're sleepy buddy, but I can feel your stomach growling," The elder Stark pushed, proceeding to pull the amnesiac up.

Only then did Peter get up, taking the blanket with him as they headed towards the kitchen. Rubbing his tired eyes, and leaning against his fathers back while he rummaged through the fridge.

Tony knew there were days when Peter was nothing but tired, there were days he wouldn't stay still. Today was a sleepy day, where he clung to the exhaustion of lost memories, trailing behind whoever was closest so they could think for him.

Not that it burdened tony, though it brought back the many nightmares, memories, of failing him. Of when Peter had come home, weak and confused. The horrid realization that Peter didn't understand why his hand was in a cast, and why there were bandages lining his head and torso.

He clung then too, scared as the doctor took the brain scans. Told him he wouldn't necessarily be able to remember what was next, only in his dreams. The image of his son's broken eyes, and frightened and wrecked sobs clawing out of his throat. And the shouts of _why_ , and _it wasn't fair_ passing his lips in a repeated litany. A cry of _why didn't they just kill me_ , and then he'd cried too.

Almost bewildered when the next day came, and Peter didn't remember that the day before he'd been told he'd never be the same.

Nothing would ever be the same.

"Eggs okay?" Tony asked softly, willing to not make yesterday's mistake.

"Yeah," Peter replied, detangling himself from his father's back and sliding into one of the many bar stools that lined the kitchen counter.

Admiring how everything his father did was precise, cracking eggs the same way he threaded wires. Hands steady, the same way they always were. When he raised his gauntlet or shook the pan back and forth.

Peter looked upon the man that'd seen and gone through _more_ horrors with _more_ love in his battered heart than stars in the sky. And Peter knew his father looked into the gentle invasive sky with a fear like no other.

But he kept going, and that's what he loved. That's who he wanted to be. Yet the dreams, dare he say memories, of his father breaking down. Holding him in his arms and apologizing left him bewildered.

He didn't even understand when he called out, "Is there something wrong with me?"

Tony stopped then, looking over with sad eyes. Gulping before moving the pan as not to let the eggs burn.

"No baby," He spoke softly, adam's apple bobbing as he piled the eggs onto a plate. Placing it on the counter, busying himself with getting his own meal ready. Even when his appetite had been banished.

"You're always sad, why?" The child asked, Tony, let out a shout of anger, throwing the pan. It clattering to the floor with a clang. Arms bracing the countertop, head hanging low. Chest heaving with harsh, labored breaths.

"I let you down," He finally admitted after the minutes, maybe hours of silence.

"How?"

A choked broken laugh left the billionaire in hysterics, "I was supposed to protect you." Falling from his lips in a repeated litany, and yet Peter tried desperately to remember when. When his father had let him down, and nothing came to mind. Nothing.

He didn't understand how it'd been so hot the other day and now it was raining, why couldn't he remember these changes? Why couldn't he remember something so  important that it was destroying his father?

He couldn't reassure his father that he'd protected him because he truly didn't know. It left a new question on the tip of his tongue.

"Can it be fixed?" And the broken shake of his father's head left no room for arguments, and with teary eyes, Peter could only nod.

Realizing he wouldn't remember this in the morning, and he was truly broken beyond repair. The most startling realization of all pushing the tears from his eyes.

He'd broken his father too.


End file.
